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UC-NRLF 


SB    E7E 


GIFT  OF 


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IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 

An  Idyll  of  Constancy 


BY 
HOWARD  V.  SUTHERLAND 

Author  of  "  Idylls  of  Greece  " 


A  little  while  and  we  shall  be  as  these 
Whose  sighs  disturb'd  Jane's  starry  silences. 


Desmond  FitzGerald,  Inc. 
New  York 

1912 


Copyright  1919  by 
DESMOND  FITZGERALD,  IDC. 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


33G043 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 

N  echo  this  of  an  immortal  tale 
Of  woman's  love,  with  all  its  constancy. 
Idas,  the  friend  of  Jason,  found  at  last 
In  fair  Marpessa  peace,  as  most  men  find, 
Or  soon  or  late,  serene  companionship 
In  one  whose  lips  hint  more  than  may  be  told. 
For  woman's  love,  since  erst  the  world  began, 
Is  oft  unuttered;  but  like  yonder  blue 
That  swathes  the  rugged  tops  of  solemn  hills, 
Proclaims  itself  by  silence,  by  a  glance 
That  lies  like  benediction  on  the  soul. 
The  melody  unheard,  the  airy  song 
Suggested  by  the  silence,  and  the  peace 
Behind  the  moveless  azure — these  suggest 
The  love  that  bides  behind  a  woman's  lips. 
For  even  when  those  lips  proclaim  their  love, 
And  when  her  eyes  shine  promise,  of  her  soul 
Her  love  is  silent  fragrance,  as  its  scent 
The  soul  is  of  the  love-desiring  rose. 
In  olden  days  the  tellers  of  these  tales, 
Who  wove  their  fancies  from  the  glinting  webs 
The  gods  blew  earthward,  or  of  memories 

[3] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Robb'd  the  hush'd  Past,  have  told  how  Idas  won 
The  daughter  of  Evenus,  racing  him 
With  hot-soled  feet ;  and  how  he  conquer'd  him ; 
And  how  the  hoary  runner  plunged  to  death 
Within  the  waters  that  assumed  his  name 
And  hid  his  body.     But  the  victor  claim'd 
Her  hand  as  prize  and  led  her,  happy-eyed, 
From  harsh  JEtolia  where  her  grace  was  lost 
To  his  bright  valleys  in  Messenia. 
And  she,  Marpessa,  in  her  husband  found 
Her  girlhood's  dream,  and  was  most  satisfied 
To  worship  and  be  worship'd.     In  the  dawn 
She  rose  betimes  to  see  him  seek  the  woods 
Before  the  deer  were  stirring;  long  ere  noon, 
Her  household  duties  over,  for  her  lord 
She  watch'd  without  the  bronzen  latticed  gates 
To  lead  him  to  their  palace ;  and  when  came 
The  softly-breathing  Night  with  eyes  of  dream, 
She  raised  her  lips  to  him  so  brave  and  clean, 
Who  faced  the  stars  as  he  had  faced  the  sea. 
Now,  thinking  back,  it  seems  that  in  their  woods 
My  lonely  spirit  saw  them ;  hand  in  hand, 
Serene  in  silence,  or  with  burning  lips 
Vowing  their  hearts'  indifference  to  time, 
Their  love  and  their  eternal  constancy. 
Youth's  roses  had  departed  from  her  cheeks; 
His  locks  were  not  so  brown  as  when  the  waves 
Flung  their  pure  mist  upon  them ;  yet  the  gods 
[4] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Still  number'd  them  with  lovely  things,  with  all 
That  laugh'd  and  look'd  not  backward,  nor 

surmised 

The  night  behind  the  promise  of  the  day. 
And  deeming  each  the  other  beautiful 
They  both  were  young ;  for  Age  no  finger  lays 
On  her  who  's  loved ;  and  he  whose  lips  receive 
A  heart's  impassion'd  murmurs,  fears  no  more 
The  whisper'd  warning  from  the  lips  of  Death. 
And  even  now  she  bade  him  weave  for  her 
In  such  embroidery  as  color'd  words 
Can  hang  upon  the  silence,  all  the  tale 
Of  Jason  and  his  heroes;  how  the  sea 
Curl'd  angrily  around  them,  while  the  wind 
ShrilPd  through  its  teeth  its  heritage  of  hate ; 
He  told  her  of  the  heroes ;  and  at  last 
Of  dark  Medea,  who  had  charm'd  his  lord, 
Or  so  the  heroes  said,  and  married  him. 
And  then  he  told  her  how  the  land  was  full 
Of  awful  mutterings  of  unseen  mouths 
That  said  her  hands  were  bloody.     Thus  he  told 
The  day's  new  gossip  much  as  we  to-day 
May  gossip  in  the  twilight.     Now,  as  then, 
The  idlest  tale,  if  one  but  whisper  it, 
Finds  ears  to  give  it  welcome ;  now,  as  then, 
The  wind  is  bearer  of  the  distant  deed 
And  Truth  is  ever  that  which  is  untold. 

[5] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  when  she  spoke  it  was  of  other  things 
That  dearer  seem'd  to  him  than  tales  of  war. 
For  she  a  woman  was,  and  dream'd  again 
Of  that  first  night  when  o'er  her  blessed  hand 
He  bent  and  said  he  loved  and  worshiped  her. 
That  eve  they  linger'd  by  a  marble  fane 
Whose  stilly  whiteness  fill'd  their  hearts  with 

peace, 

And  watch'd  the  dusk  spread  purple  coverlets 
Upon  the  mountains'  summits.  On  the  woods 
Lay  darker  mantles,  and  the  vales  were  black 
With  sleep  that  woo'd  the  cattle  and  the  flowers. 
They  spoke  no  word,  but  watch'd  with  wonder- 
ment 

The  many  changes,  knowing  they  were  one 
With  hills  and  trees  and  all  that  graced  the 

vales. 

Then,  in  her  father's  garden,  he  and  she 
That  summer's  night  had  wander'd.     Far  away 
The  heavy  hills  now  slumber'd ;  in  the  skies 
The  stars  were  gather'd,  moving  solemnly 
Their  order'd  ways,  expectant  of  the  moon. 
And  now  was  heard  the  twitter  of  a  bird, 
And  then  a  cricket's  protest,  else  so  still 
The  air  about  them  that  he  caught  the  wind's 
Soft  whisper  in  her  tresses ;  and  the  while 
She  look'd  away,  his  love  o'erpower'd  him 
And  he  had  touch'd  those  tresses  with  his  lips. 

[6] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


But  she  was  dreaming  then  of — Ah !  who  knows  ? 
Perhaps  of  him.     Perhaps  unknown  to  him 
She  sensed  his  adoration,  as  the  flower 
May  sense  at  noon  the  pity  of  the  dusk. 
Perhaps,  although  she  never  felt  that  kiss, 
Night's    stilly    voices    whisper'd :    "  Thou    art 

loved!"; 

Perhaps  the  stars  proclaim'd  it,  or  the  wind, 
The  hopeless  wind,  whose  love  is  long  lament. 
Perhaps  she  thought  of  whispers  and  of  sighs, 
Of  cool-cheek'd  roses  brought  on  golden  morns 
With    silv'ry    words    of    greeting.     Ah!    who 

knows  ? 

And  wand'ring  home  beneath  the  risen  moon 
She  lean'd  to  him  a  little,  and  his  arm 
Had  almost  dared  to  hold  her  prisoner. 
But  when   at  last  they   reach'd  the  shadow'd 

porch, 

By  scented  creepers  sheltered  from  the  world, 
Again  love  mastered  him  and,  ere  she  knew, 
His  lips  had  seal'd  his  secret  on  her  hands. 
And  though  his  eyes  were  hidden  now  from  her, 
And  though  his  voice  was  silent,  she  was  'ware 
That  this  no  passion  was,  no  youthful  heat 
To  pass  ere  morning  with  the  icy  moon 
And  all  her  chaste  attendants.     This  was  love, 
That  grows  in  silence,  love  that  worship  is; 
Whose  constant  flame  burns  constantly  above 

[7] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Life's  grey  illusion,  and  essays  to  light 

The  hopeless  highways  through  the  realms  of 

Death. 

And  then  with  face  uplifted,  that  his  eyes 
Might  seek  her  own  eyes'  solace,  he  had  told 
His  love  for  her,  and  how,  as  in  a  net 
The  tangled  bird  may  flutter,  now  his  heart 
Was  caught  for  ever  by  that  guileless  charm 
With  which  the  gods  had  graced  her.     He  was 

one 

Who  lived  for  action;  and  his  speech  was  bare 
As  winter's  dreamless  branches ;  but  a  sheen 
Encircled  him  that  evening,  and  his  words 
Seem'd  golden  like  the  heart-song  of  a  bird 
That  sings  its  joyous  message  in  the  sun. 
And  he  had  won  her,  though  the  moon  was  gone 
Before,  all  lily-like,  she  droop'd  to  him 
And  kiss'd  his  forehead,  saying  she  was  his ; 
And  kiss'd  again,  as  if  she  knew  that  now 
The  gods  would  eye  them  through  unkindly  lids 
And  wreck  the  flimsy  fabric  of  their  dream. 
For  they  that  sit  in  judgment  love  us  not 
Who  dwell  in  Time,  imprison'd,  till  we  seek 
The  silence  and  the  shadow.     From  their  seats 
They  watch  our  vain  endeavor,  hear  our  sighs, 
And  note  the  eager  groping  of  our  hands 
To  hands  that  tremble  uswards;  through  the 

dusk 

[8] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Our  whispers  rise  and  vanish,  and  they  hear, 
And  hollow  laughter  thins  the  lips  of  them. 
For  human  loves  are  holy;  our  desire 
Outflames  their  awful  splendor ;  and  although 
They  scorn  us,  who  are  hostages  of  Death, 
They  envy  us,  and  hate  us  for  our  dreams. 

And  so  the  while  they  linger'd  in  the  woods, 

And  Idas  bade  her  whisper,  to  her  love 

Marpessa  told  that  story.     And  it  seem'd 

Each  time  he  heard  it,  it  was  ever  new, 

Or,  like  a  jewel  held  against  the  sun, 

Took  unknown  beauties  to   it.     Through  the 

trees 

Serenity  beheld  them,  marvelling, 
As  Nature  ever  marvels  at  the  fair, 
At  so  much  happiness  in  two  so  fond, 
In  two  so  pure  and  perfect.    To  the  trees 
They  seem'd  akin,  and  to  the  wind-swept  hills 
Array'd  in  joyous  colors;  to  the  birds, 
Singing  from  hearts  so  cramm'd  with  happiness 
They  never  can  outpour  it,  they  were  things 
Half  unsubstantial,  with  the  tiny  blooms 
That  smiled  their  stilly  message  of  delight. 
And  when  her  voice  was  silent,  and  the  tale 
Was  ended,  he  would  question :  "  Even  now 
I  know  not  how  I  won  thee,  I,  whose  arms 

[9] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Have  fear'd  to  clasp  thy  beauty."     And  she 

smiled 
And  bade  him  wonder.     "  While  I  live,"   she 

said, 

"  My  love  must  needs  be  silent.     When  I  die 
I'll  whisper  thee  its  secret,  and  thy  heart 
Shall  strain  against  the  barriers  of  death 
To  bring  me  solace."     And  he  bent  to  her, 
And  said :  "  I  love  thee,  and  would  e'er  abide 
Within  the  folded  pinions  of  thy  soul, 
At  peace  and  happy.     If  thou  venturest 
Where  ghosts  await  us  ere  I  go  with  thee, 
Thy  love  shall  draw  me  thither;  should  I  go, 
I'll  wait  thy  boat's  still  beaching,  and  assuage 
Thy  murmurs  with  the  welcome  of  mine  eyes." 
"  My  love  thou  art,"  she  whispered.     "  I  am 

thine. 

Our  day  is  at  its  morning;  music  fills 
Our  happy  hearts  as  now  the  air  is  fill'd 
With  yon  gay  bird's  impassion'd  melody. 
The  noon  shall  follow  with  its  sense  of  peace, 
Then  blessed  evening  with  its  memories 
And  all  the  sweet  companionship  of  stars. 
I  gaze  untroubled  down  the  aisle  of  Time, 
Because  thy  love  shall  guard  me."     Then  he 

kiss'd 

The  hand  that  touch'd  ail-tenderly  his  hair. 
"  I  only  know  I  love  thee,"  he  replied. 
[10] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


"  Thy  words  are  music ;  let  my  silence  be 
The  air  that  would  contain  them.     Hark!  a 

bird 

Has  pity  on  my  dumbness,  and  to  thee 
Would  sing  the  benediction  in  my  heart." 
And  then  they  listen'd,  and  the  woods  became 
Their  temple,  and  the  bird  its  feather'd  priest 
Whose  wholesome  adoration  pleased  the  gods. 
Then  Idas  press'd  his  dear  one  close  to  him. 
"  It  loves,"  he  said.     "  It  loves,  and  therefore 

sings. 

But  though  I  love,  my  worship  must  be  mute, 
My  fond  Marpessa,  my  beloved  wife." 
And  then,  perhaps,  she  raised  to  his  her  lips 
And  saw,  with  closed  eyes,  the  olden  dream 
In  all  its  purity.     Oh !  never  say 
That  love  is  aught  but  holy.     From  the  dark 
We  journey  to  the  darkness;  love,  the  while, 
Enswathes  us  in  its  utter  spotlessness 
And  makes  of  poor,  imperfect  instruments 
Things  worth  the  What's-to-f  ollow.     Love  is  all. 

For  two  swift  years  the  gods  look'd  carelessly 
On  Idas  and  Marpessa.     There  were  wars 
'Twixt  god  and  god,  intrigues  and  jealousies 
To  hold  their  bright  attention ;  otherwheres 
Kings  robed  in  purple,  wearing  crowns  of  gold, 
Look'd  at  the  stars  perhaps  too  haughtily, 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Or  plann'd   To-morrow's    conquest;   them   the 

gods 

Smote  silently  and  swiftly,  laughing  long 
To  see  the  pomp  that  follow'd  them  to  death, 
As  if  they  thought  their  banners  or  their  plumes 
Might  alter  Death's  enorme  solemnity, 
Or  hint :  These  once  were  kings.     For  two  swift 

years 
Those  lovers,  now  long  silent,   dream'd   their 

dreams. 

They  laugh'd  together  in  the  morning's  cool 
And  raised  their  babes.     And  then  the  gods 

look'd  down 

And  saw  their  fondness,  and  an  arch'd  surprise 
Above  their  heavy  eyes  bode  ill  to  them. 

*         * 
* 

S  when  great  birds,  white-plumaged,  in 

the  foam 

Of    untrack'd    seas    from    drowsiness 
awake, 

And  make  the  bright  air  brighter  with  the  flash 
Of    light-tipp'd    wings,    so    now    the    shining 

heavens 

Wherein  the  gods  gleam'd  idly,  seem'd  awake 
As,  one  by  splendid  one,  they  roused  themselves. 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Then  moved  among  them  a  delightful  boy, 
The  star-eyed  Ganymedes,  loved  of  Zeus, 
Whose  rounded  limbs  the  winds  kiss'd  joyously 
The  while  he  slumber'd ;  in  his  hand  he  bore 
A  crystal  goblet  topp'd  with  fragrant  foam, 
And   touch'd  each  snowy  shoulder.     And  the 

gods 

Were  glad  to  see  his  pretty  artlessness 
So  drank  and  laugh'd,  and,  laughing,  drank 

again. 

And  then  on  golden  platters,  finely  wrought, 
Most  rich  in  pictures  of  heroic  deeds 
And  loves  now  sung  by  singers  and  the  stars, 
The  curl-brow'd  boy  to  each  reclining  god 
Took  honey-sweet  ambrosia,  and  they  ate, 
And  thus  renew'd  their  youth.     And  being  filPd 
They   look'd   again   to   where   the   fair   earth 

gleam'd 

As  gleams  a  crystal  river  when  the  sun 
Pours  its  hot  love  upon  it.     Saying  naught 
They  gazed  thereon  in  silence,  much  as  we 
May  watch  the  thing  from  which  still  Beauty's 

breath 

Has  blown  the  grossness,  idly  wondering 
e  Why  Zeus  had  made  a  toy  so  beautiful. 
Swiftly  they  saw  with  their  all-seeing  eyes 
The  mountains'  majesty,  the  charm  of  vales, 
The  drowsy  forest's  beauty;  from  the  woods 
[13] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Their  gaze  turn'd  slowly  to  the  silv'ry  streams 
That  wound  through  gay  and  flower-enamell'd 

meads 

And  laugh'd  while  Death  allur'd  them  to  the  sea. 
They  saw  the  city  with  its  hordes  of  men 
As  blind  and  selfish  as  their  sons  to-day ; 
Amassing  wealth  beyond  the  needs  of  them, 
Disputing  vainly  in  their  ignorance 
Of  things  as  far  beyond  them  as  the  stars. 
They  laugh'd  to  see  the  soldier's  martial  stride, 
The  condescension  of  the  sated  lord, 
Who  smiled  on  worth  and  frown'd  on  poverty 
While  Death  stood  silently  beside  his  seat 
And  eyed  him  with  grave  patience.     In  their 

hearts 

They  mock'd  man's  pride,  and  wish'd  him  bitter- 
ness. 

They  saw  the  hardy  peasant  at  his  task 
Behind  his  straining  oxen;  on  the  hills 
The  piping  boy  with  brown'd  and  sturdy  limbs 
Beside  his  sheep;  and  where  the  rocking  sea 
Responded  to  the  wooing  of  the  sun, 
And  gleam'd  its  pleasure,  bearded  fishermen 
Whose  eyes  roved  landward  where  their  loved 

ones  were. 

They  saw  the  priests  perform  the  sacrifice 
On  ancient  altars  hewn  from  gleaming  stone, 
[14] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


While  white-robed  vestals  watch'd  the  sacred 

flames 

And  sang  the  solemn  paeans ;  in  the  fields 
They  saw  the  women  bent  above  the  grapes. 
The  tranquil  kine  amused  them,  for  they  thought 
Of  restless  lo's  heavy  punishment; 
And  when  a  deer  would  raise  its  antler'd  head, 
Or  the  meek  rabbit  signal  its  affright 
With  lifted  ears  alert  to  every  sound, 
Their  bright  eyes  widen'd  as  they  hoped  to  see 
A  shepherd's  wooing  of  a  willing  nymph. 
And  loud  they  laugh'd  to  hear  what  vows  he 

made 

Of  lasting  faith,  or  swore  to  cherish  her 
Despite  her  fault;  for  well  the  wise  gods  knew 
The   bees    are   fond   while   flowers   are   yet  to 

win. 
But  soon  forget  the  flower  that  is  despoil'd. 

Apart  from  all  the  rest,  Apollo  sat, 
But  eyed  the  earth  as  idly.     In  his  hair 
Such  glory  linger'd  that  his  face  was  bright 
As  is  the  sun  itself,  and  yet  his  eyes 
Were  blacker  than  the  gloom  of  wintry  skies 
Ere  stars  adventure  from  their  hiding  place. 
One  hand  lay  heavy  on  his  marbled  knee 
As,  forward  bent,  his  gaze  pierced  fearlessly 
The  gulfs  of  blue ;  the  other  held  the  lyre 

[15] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


With  which  at  times  he  charm'd  his  grave  com- 
peers 

By  dream-evoking  music,  strains  as  sad 
As  Day's  bright  scorn  or  Night's  sweet  con- 
stancy. 

But  now,  though  Zeus  oft  eyed  him  lovingly 
As  if  in  supplication,  at  his  side 
The  lyre  was  mute ;  for  where  the  trees  enclosed 
A  moveless  pool  on  that  revolving  sphere 
Where  dreams  are  born  that  Fate  may  mock  at 

them, 

He  saw — Marpessa.    And  the  joy  in  him 
Became  extinguish'd  like  a  blown  out  light 
Because,  ail-suddenly,  he  longed  for  her, 
Who  seemed  a  thing  of  whitest  ivory 
Within  an  em'rald  casket;  like  a  flame 
His  joy  leap'd  up  and  suddenly  went  out 
And  left  his  huge  heart  empty,  as  to-day 
Our  little  joy  as  suddenly  is  gone 
As  is  the  fragrance  of  the  fated  rose. 
But  heedless  of  the  ever-burning  gaze 
That  flamed  above  her  movements,  in  the  pool 
Marpessa  bathed,  her  black  hair  having  bound 
About  her  brows  ail-tightly.     By  the  reeds 
Her  garments  lay,  and  though  they  snowy  were 
Yet  she  was  whiter,  for  her  purity 
Herself  was,  as  its  pallor  is  the  moon, 
And  though  a  wife  yet  was  she  innocent. 
[16] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


The  pretty  deer,  with  large  and  lustrous  eyes 
And  hesitating  hoofs,  came  from  the  trees 
And  nosed  the  glinting  water,  eyeing  her 
As  though  she  were  a  thing  of  woods  and  hills, 
A  thing  that  knew  and  loved  them ;  and  anon, 
When  they  had  sensed  the  loveliness  of  her 
And  sipp'd  their  fill,  they  turn'd  their  heads 

from  her 

And  shyly  sought  the  forest's  shade  again. 
The  birds,  attired  in  brilliant  liveries, 
Consider'd  her  a  sister,  look'd  at  her, 
And  sang  while  looking ;  then,  with  wetted  wings, 
Flew    to    their   mates    and    woke    the    scented 

peace 

With  twitter*d  gossip,  till  these  others  sought 
The  little  pool  that  held  the  wonder-one. 
Then,  as  he  gazed,  their  swiftly-moving  wings 
Seem'd  brighter  to  Apollo  than  the  skies 
When  sunset  tints  them ;  and  he  envied  them 
Their  fondness  for  Marpessa.     From  his  seat 
He  tower'd  suddenly,  as  does  the  flame 
The  winds  have  tortured;  and  had  sought  her 

then, 

While  yet  his  heart's  Titanic  hammering 
Paled  his  bright  face.     But  Zeus,  the  Father, 

call'd, 

And  set  him  to  a  task  that  hinder'd  him. 
[17] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  once  again,  that  same  task  being  done, 
He  peer'd  from  out  the  shelter  of  a  cloud 
And  saw  Marpessa.     It  was  even  now, 
And  they  that  mock  the  destinies  of  men 
Sat  solemnly  together,  knee  by  knee, 
Beneath  grave  Zeus  and  his  all- jealous  spouse. 
And  while  they  whisper'd  of  the  day  to  come 
The  sad-eyed  Dusk,  with  dreams  in  either  hand, 
Stepp'd  from  their  midst  and  sought  the  weary 

earth. 

Before  the  gentle  sorrow  of  her  face 
The  light  withdrew,  to  men  whom  Sleep  still 

bless'd 

Bearing  the  day's  illusion,  and  the  hope 
For  that  which,  being  granted,  proves  but  vain. 
And  while  he  gazed  upon  the  half-hush'd  woods, 
Where  now  the  trees  in  blessed  stilliness 
Exhaled  their  souls,  all-grateful  for  the  day, 
From  out  their  gardens  to  the  greater  peace 
Marpessa  came,  and  Idas.     Lover-like, 
His  arm  was  still  about  her;  and  again 
He  charm'd  her  with  the  story  of  their  love 
In  days  that  now  seem'd  days  of  golden  dream. 
And  though  so  oft  the  story  he  had  told, 
Yet  seem'd  it  ever  new.     In  wonderment 
She  walk'd  beside  him,  raising  trustingly 
Her  eyes  to  his  when  he  a  deed  recall'd 
That  brought  the  Past  back,  and  its  memories. 
[18] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Above    their   heads,    where    arched    the    heavy 

boughs, 
The  birds   cheep'd  faintly,  knowing  that  the 

night 

Was  drawing  nigh,  and  soon  the  hateful  owl 
Would  hoot  its  feud  against  all  feather'd  things 
And  furry  creatures,  while  the  heartless  moon 
Cross'd  regally  the  heavens.     Amid  the  leaves 
In  blest  security  they  hid  their  heads 
Beneath  their  wings,  and  then  the  woods  were 

still 

As  if  with  expectation.     And  the  while 
The  darkness  thicken'd,  by  a  well-known  path 
The  lovers  sought  a  bower  beloved  of  them, 
And  whisper'd  there,  as  if  the  birds  might  hear, 
About  their  love  that  still  so  wondrous  seem'd. 
Forgetting    naught    they    lived    their    dream 

again — 
Their  first  sweet  stammer'd  vows;  her  first  shy 

kiss 

When,  so  it  seem'd,  the  gods  had  turn'd  aside 
In  envy  of  a  girl's  pure  tenderness; 
The  silence  that  was  music ;  and  the  calm 
That  slowly  flamed  to  passion — Ah !  if  thou 
Whose  lids  now  droop  above  this  halting  line 
Hast  loved  as  they  loved,  but  thy  mem'ry  paint 
That  perfect  picture  for  thee.     Having  loved 
Thou  knowest  all  things  perfect;  one  thou  art 
[19] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


With  Idas  or  Marpessa.     Kingdoms  change, 
Stars  wane  and  mountains  vanish ;  love  alone 
Remains  To-day  what  Yesterday  it  was, 
And  makes  us  kin  to  all  that  's  turn'd  to  dust. 

And   while  the   Night  enswathed  the   sleeping 

earth, 

Asserting  its  dominion  over  men 
Whose  hearts  were  joyous,  men  whose  hearts 

were  sad. 

Where  dream'd  the  gods,  the  ever-deathless  ones, 
It  darken'd  too.     Each  splendid  star  now  faced 
Its  sister  orb  in  silv'ry  sympathy 
And  left  the  high  air  widow'd ;  but  there  glow'd. 
Where  sat  the  gods,  a  steely  after  light 
In  luminous  suggestion,  such  as  woos 
The  crystal  fringes  of  the  rolling  sphere 
Where  white-furr'd  bear  tread  heavily  the  snow. 
The  winds  stroked  rhymeless  music  from  their 

harps, 

Intoning  solemnly  their  airy  chant 
In  praise  of  Zeus.     "  Supremest!     Thunderer! 
Whose  glance  is  as  the  lightning;  thou  whose 

breath 

Titanic  cedars  bends  submissively, 
Heaps  sea  on  sea,  extinguishes  the  stars ! 
Gather'd  from  far  we  kneel  and  worship  thee 
In  wild,  unfetter'd  music.     We  have  seen 
[20] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Man's  pitiful  endeavors,  deeds  and  dreams 
Beneath    thy    notice.     Death   makes    mock    of 

them, 

Whose  little  life  is  spent  ere  thou  and  thine 
Are  conscious  of  their  being.     Thee  we  praise, 
Who  art  alone  enduring;  by  whose  will 
We  wake  from  nothing,  by  whose  will  we  die." 
But  Zeus,  with  sad  impenetrable  eyes, 
Gazed  into  space,  well-knowing  that  at  last 
Creator  and  created  are  as  one — 
Are  doom'd  as  is  the  sunset's  holy  glow, 
Are  vain  as  are  the  hopes  of  yesterday. 
And  then  the  gods  that  sat  at  Zeus's  feet 
With  half-hush'd  voices  answer'd :  "  Thou  art  he 
Whose  eyes  have  dream'd  all  things  of  conse- 
quence. 

Before  it  came,  thou  knewest  of  To-day 
And  Destiny's  decrees.     We  bend  to  thee 
Who  art  the  Father."     And  again  the  winds 
Intoned  their  praise :  "  Thou  only  can'st  out- 
stare 
The  eyes  of  Time.     Death  lays  no  hands  on 

thee; 

But  crams  his  grey  and  echoless  abode 
With  all  that  thou  Greatest.     Thou  art  he 
To  whom  they  wildly  clamor  ere  they  tread 
The  way  that  leads  to  silence  and  despair." 
Then  once  again  the  gods'  deep  murmurs  voiced 
[21] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Their  answ'ring  adoration;  but  the  eyes 
Of  Zeus  were  fix'd  and  moody.     So  the  rock, 
Unmindful  of  the  passion  of  the  sea, 
Awaits  its  end;  it  scorns  the  sun's  caress, 
The  wind's  advances  and  the  lightning's  hate. 

And  now  the  heights   were   silent.     Cloud   on 

cloud, 

With  fleecy  shoulders  leaning  each  to  each, 
Took  for  the  night  their  stations,  while  the  winds 
Remain'd  without  and  roam'd,  disconsolate, 
The  starry  highways.     One  by  splendid  one 
The  gods  lay  down  to  wait  Aurora's  call 
To  see  the  dawnburst,  note  with  ecstasy 
The  modest  flower's  unfolding,  and  delight 
In  that  first  note  with  which  the  happy  bird 
Heralds  the  day  and  all  its  promises. 
Austerely  silent,  at  the  feet  of  Zeus 
They  fell  asleep,  or  gazed  through  half-closed 

eyes 

Upon  the  face  that  tower'd  over  them. 
And  once  again,  like  huge  and  brooding  birds, 
The  watchers  of  the  tragedies  of  men 
Lay  couch'd  amid  the  cloud-mass  stillily; 
Prepared  to  dream  of  flights  against  the  sun, 
Enormous  circlings  to  the  pleasant  earth 
Or  swift  descents  through  endless  gulfs  of  space. 
But  one  was  wakeful,  one  who  lay  apart 
[22] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  strove  to  pierce  with  melancholy  gaze 
The  moveless  clouds — Apollo.     At  his  side 
His  lyre  still  idle  lay.     No  breathless  tones 
Lured  fancies  to  the  eyes  of  them  that  slept, 
Or  woke  the  others'  musings.     By  himself 
He  lay  and  suffered,  anxious  for  the  dawn 
That  he  might  see  Marpessa,  and,  ere  night, 
Win  her  from  Idas  and  the  things  she  loved. 


HE  morning  dawn'd,  a  morn  of  joyous- 
ness, 

Of  blue,  bright  skies ;  a  morn  of  wonder- 
ment 

So  breathless  that  the  ever-trilling  lark 
Outsung  itself  while  mounting,  flight  by  flight, 
To  where  all  space  seem'd  thirsty  for  its  song. 
A  first,  faint  breeze,  forerunner  of  the  winds 
That  soon  would  follow,  from  the  caves  of  pearl 
Where  homed  the  plaintive  echoes  of  the  deep 
Came  slowly  forth,  and  fill'd  the  airy  aisles 
With  sea-sweet  fragrance.     As  the  trees  awoke 
They    trembled    slightly,    and    the    whisp'ring 

leaves 

Greeted  each  other  in  the  speech  that  is 
More  delicate  than  music.     Moveless  then, 
[23] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Like  virgins  at  the  hour  of  sacrifice, 
They  stood  and  waited  till  with  ruder  hands 
The  winds  should  touch  them,  sway  them  to  and 

fro 

In  wildest  dance,  and  leave  them  suddenly 
To  mourn  their  stripp'd  and  tatter'd  draperies. 
And  while  a  silence  still  possess'd  the  air 
Save  for  the  dwindling  cadence  of  the  lark, 
To  where  the  steps  led  downward  Idas  came 
From  out  the  palace  with  his  shaggy  hounds. 
Marpessa  follow'd  with  his  trusted  spear 
And  bow  and  arrows ;  but  her  dragging  feet 
And  smileless  lips  betoken'd  she  was  sad 
This  golden  morning ;  and  had  kept  him  there 
To  hear  the  first  sweet  prattle  of  their  babes 
Had  he  not  seem'd  so  eager  for  the  chase. 
But  when  she  laid  his  weapons  at  his  feet, 
And  raised  to  his  the  question  of  her  eyes, 
He  placed  his  arm  about  her,  and  his  touch 
Made  her  forget,  who  was  so  solely  his. 
"  Nay,  fear  not,  wife,"  he  said.     "  Ere  noon  is 

come 

The  hounds  shall  bay  before  the  welcome  gates, 
And  call  thee  forth  to  greet  me.     Thou  shalt 

see 

My  shoulders  hid  beneath  the  hugest  skin 
That  made  a  bear  seem  fearful ;  but  thy  feet 
This  very  night,  when  o'er  thy  heavy  lids 
[24] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Sleep  draws  the  velvet  solace  of  his  plumes, 

Shall  tread  it  as  thou  goest  to  thy  couch 

To  dream  of  him  who  loves  thee."    "  Ah,"  said 

she, 

"  Who  goes  away  is  ever  free  of  care ; 
Who  stays  is  heavy-hearted.     Thou  and  I 
Are  one,  my  husband ;  when  thou  leavest  me, 
Though  the  blest  sunshine  trembles  in  my  hair, 
My  heart  becomes  the  darksome  lair  of  fear. 
I  love  thee,  Idas."     "  And  I  love  thee,  too," 
Her  husband  answer'd.     "  I  have  thought  of 

thee 

When,  call'd  in  Greece's  service,  I  have  dared 
The  swift,  unerring  dart  of  bitter  Death. 
Thy  love  has  kept  me  scathless,  and  thy  voice 
Has  whisper'd  me  in  hours  of  loneliness 
Such  words  as  gave  me  courage.     I  have  lived 
Since  first  I  loved  thee ;  and  I  love  thee  still, 
And  fain  would  live  to  win  for  thee  and  mine 
Fresh  honor  and  more  glory.     When  I  go 
To  fight  for  Greece,  thou  sayest  not  a  word ; 
Yet  now  I  go  to  bring  thee "     Then  he 

laugh'd 

And  stroked  the  worry  from  her  low,  cool  brow, 
Then  bade  her  note  how  eager  were  the  hounds 
To  prove  their  mettle.  And  she  clung  to  him 
And  look'd  at  him  in  silence.  Ah!  who  knows 
The  thoughts  behind  a  woman's  trustful  eyes, 
[25] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Or  senses  all  she  suffers?     Through  the  years 
We  take  without  a  question  all  she  gives, 
But  never  know  her.     Infancy  and  age 
Alike  depend  upon  her;  in  his  prime 
Man  strides  alone  to  learn  his  destiny; 
He  crowns  himself  whenever  he  succeeds, 
But  turns  to  her  for  comfort  when  he  fails. 
So  Idas  laugh'd  and  kiss'd  her.     "  Smile  on  me," 
He  said  at  last,  his  weapons  in  his  hand ; 
"  That  when  I  venture  where  the  woods  are  dark 
Thine  eyes  shall  light  me,  and  the  memory 
Of  thy  sweet  face  may  hearten  me  against 
What  odds  may  wait  me  in  the  monster's  cave." 
And  while  the  eager  dogs  leap'd  noisily, 
Or  whined  with  noses  pointed  to  the  woods, 
She  kiss'd  his  forehead ;  and  he  strode  away, 
The  dogs  beside  him  watchful  of  his  eye 
And  silent  now  as  he  was.     And  while  yet 
Marpessa's  hands  were  clasp'd  against  her  heart, 
He  pass'd  within  the  menace  of  the  woods. 

And  while  her  darlings  slept,  two  pretty  babes, 
All  pink  and  white  and  smiles  and  innocence, 
To  that  same  pool  beyond  the  garden's  walls 
Marpessa  went,  un fearing.     Now  the  woods 
Were  bright  with  promise,  for  the  tallest  trees 
Beheld  the  first  swift  lances  of  the  sun 
Glint  in  the  east,  and  drive  in  front  of  them 
[26] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


The  last  doom'd  line  of  hesitating  grey. 

But   still  the   grass,   from   which   her   sandals 

brush'd 

Uncounted  dewdrops  mirroring  the  world, 
Was  cool  in  shadow,  and  the  leaves  were  wet 
As  if  the  fleeing  Night  had  wept  o'er  them. 
And  while  she  sped  beneath  the  whisp'ring  trees, 
From  glade  to  glade  where  now  the  startled  hare 
Look'd  hurriedly  upon  her,  and  was  gone, 
She  thought  of  Idas.    Was  it  years  ago 
He  woo'd  and  won  her?     Or  but  yestermorn 
She  said  she  loved  him?     For  it  seem'd  her  love 
Was  like  the  light,  the  golden  light  of  day, 
That  grew  each  moment  stronger;  scarce  she 

knew 

How  much  she  loved  him.     Ah !  the  gentle  trees 
That  bent  above  the  soil  in  sympathy 
Would  know  her  grief;  and  so  she  raised  to 

them 
Her  pleading  hands;  and  though  they  silent 

were, 

She  sensed  their  pity  and  was  comforted. 
But  ere  she  came  to  where  the  shaded  pool 
Invited  with  its  stillness,  in  her  path 
Stood  one  so  splendid  that  the  sun  itself 
Could  make  his  face  no  brighter.    Curling  locks, 
That  gleam'd  above  a  forehead  marble-pale, 
Caught  the  descending  glory,  but  his  eyes 
[27] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Were  dark  with  mystery,  black  yet  terrible 
As  passion  is,  that  hungers  for  the  thing 
Beyond  the  fever'd  reaching  of  its  hand. 
But  though  his  face  was  flame,  the  form  of  him 
So  perfect  was,  so  chastely  wonderful, 
That,  awed  to  silence  and  astonishment, 
Marpessa  eyed  him  as  a  moment's  dream, 
Half-fearing  he  might  vanish.     Then  a  smile 
Caress'd  his  lips,  a  smile  so  luminous 
That  now  an  added  glory  dower'd  him 
And  made  him  light  itself — light  radiant 
In,  of  all  human  forms,  the  form  most  beautiful. 
Now,  seeing  he  had  charm'd  her,  as  the  flame 
Ensnares  the  soft-wing'd  priestess  of  the  dark, 
He  spoke.     "  Marpessa !  "     Just  the  name  of 

her. 

But,  oh !  his  voice  was  as  the  voice  of  one 
Who  deems  his  love  for  evermore  removed 
Beyond  the  bridgeless  gulfs  of  hopeless  death, 
Beyond  all  winning.     As  the  echoes  died 
The  silence  seem'd  suggestive  of  a  woe, 
So  heavily  it  lay  upon  the  soul 
Of  her  that  listen'd.     And  the  hand  of  her, 
While  still  she  faced  him  with  untroubled  eyes, 
Was  slowly  lifted  to  her  drooping  lips 
As  if  in  question.     But,  before  she  spoke, 
Again  Apollo  cried  that  airy  name, 
Again  it  echoed  till  the  glade  was  fill'd. 
[28] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


"  Marpessa !  "     Oh !  the  tenderness  of  it. 
And  then  he  held  his  hand  outstretch'd  to  her 
And  look'd  his  longing;  but  as  yet  she  thought 
She  dream'd  by  daylight,  and  the  thing  would 


As  all  dreams  pass,  however  beautiful. 
And  still  his  beauty  charm'd  her,  and,  anon, 
The  air  contain'd  her  hesitating  hand 
And  heard  her  whisper :  "  Art  thou  Love  itself, 
Or  Beauty's  spirit?     Or  art  thou  a  man, 
And  made  of  that  same  perishable  stuff 
That  waits  for  death  to  ease  it  of  its  pain? 
Or  do  I  dream  and  think  thou  gleamest  there, 
While  naught's  around  me  save  the  list'ning 

trees 

And  shifting  sunlight?     If  a  man  thou  art, 
Whence  comest  thou?     What  hero-bearing  land 
May  claim  thy  service,  and  what  mother's  eyes 
Have  joy'd  above  thy  beauty?  "     Then  in  tones 
That  thrill'd  at  times  the  purest  silences 
Of  highest  heaven,  Apollo  answer'd  her: 
"  Man  am  I  not,  nor  subject  unto  death; 
But  number'd  am  with  those  whose  gaze  serene 
Watches  the  world  from  heights  of  amethyst 
Where  sits  my  father.     I  am  he  that  hymns 
The  song  of  morning,  and,  when  even's  torch 
Reddens  the  west,  I  sing  the  requiem 
That  mourns  the  sun's  down-going.     I  am  he 
[29] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


To  whom  the  Muses  listen,  and  the  stars 
Echo  the  songs  that  tremble  from  my  lips. 
My  mother  was  Latona."     While  he  spoke, 
A  startled  cry  escaped  Marpessa's  lips 
As,  fearing  now  his  presence,  she  essay'd 
To  ease  her  eyes  in  darkness  with  her  hand. 
And  still  was  silent.     "  Now  thou  knowest  me," 
The  god  continued,  and  his  voice  was  soft 
As  that  of  waves  on  sands  of  drowsy  isles. 
"  On  sapphire  morns  of  golden  joyousness 
Thy  lips  have  sung  my  praises ;  thou  hast  seen 
The  curling  incense  widen  in  its  rise 
To  circle  me  with  fragrance.     Drop  thy  hands 
That  I  may  see  the  beauty  of  thine  eyes, 

0  fair  Marpessa!  "     Then  she  look'd  at  him, 
Unconscious  of  his  purpose.     "  Brightest  god,'* 
She  whispered  faintly  as  she  lean'd  to  him; 

"  Thou  callest  me  Marpessa.    What  am  I 
That  thou,  in  accents  sweeter  than  the  wind 
On  eves  of  pearl,  should'st  call  me  by  my  name? 

1  am  but  mortal,  and  no  more  to  thee 

Than  the  doom'd  flower  that  perishes  with  day." 
And  then  he  open'd  wide  his  gleaming  arms 
And  look'd  at  her,  as  he  had  often  look'd 
On  other  beauties  willing  to  be  won; 
And  once  again  the  forest  heard  him  sigh: 
"  Marpessa !  fair  Marpessa !  "    Then  at  last 
[30] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


She   sensed  his   love,   and  straightway   shrank 

from  him 

As  from  a  thing  unclean  and  dangerous. 
But  he  continued  with  a  swifter  speech 
To  tell  his  passion.     "  Ah !  thou  knowest  now 
Why  thus  I  cry  *  Marpessa  ' !     As  I  gazed 
From  heaven's  bright  heights  and  saw  thee,  in 

my  heart 

Love's  sudden  torch  was  lighted.     Thee  I  love. 
Unearthly  splendors  woo  me  when  I  pass 
Those  ways  serene ;  the  nymphs'  white  loveliness 
Awaits  me  where  the  fern  nods  dreamily 
Its  acquiescence  to  the  wooing  wind. 
But  thou  art  fairer  than  the  whitest  nymph 
That  trembles  in  the  moonlight.     I  have  seen 
Thy  fated  beauty,  and  I  yearn  for  thee 
As  one  in  hell  may  hunger  for  the  light." 
But  closer  now  she  drew  her  purple  robe 
Across  her  breast.     "  Thou  lovest  hopelessly, 

0  flame-bright  god,"  she  said.    "  My  love  is  his 
Who  won  me  from  my  father,  who  has  spun 
His  golden  dreams  about  me  till  to  him 

1  seem  as  lovely  as  the  brightest  star. 
Two  babes  remind  us  of  our  mating  time, 
Of  days  when  yet  we  whisper'd  each  to  each 
The  pretty  nothings  that  to  lovers  are 
More  dear  than  all  the  wisdom  of  the  years. 
And  now  that  we  are  cooler,  side  by  side 

[31] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


We  go  our  way,  believing  in  the  gods 
And  one  another,  fearless  of  the  end." 
But  now  Apollo  near'd  her.     "  Thee  and  thine 
One  end  awaits,  Marpessa.     Night  by  night 
The  silent  boatman  bears  to  silent  shores 
The  voiceless  ghosts  of  lovers  such  as  ye. 
My  loves  become  immortal.     Time  nor  Change 
Can  touch  those  favor'd  of  the  deathless  gods. 
If  thou  wilt  love  me  thou  shalt  dwell  with  me 
In  everlasting  splendor,  and  be  praised 
By  men  yet  formless  in  the  future's  womb." 
But  now  Marpessa  laugh'd.    "  Where  Idas  goes, 
My  little  ones  must  follow,"  she  replied. 
"  Shall  I  forsake  them  in  that  bitter  place, 
And  leave  them  lonely?     Could  a  poet's  song 
Make  shame  less  shameful?     Oh!  thou  knowest 

not, 

Bright  god  of  morning,  of  the  heart  .that  is 
A  wife's  and  mother's.     Could  I  stay  with  thee 
And  hear  thee   singing  while   mine   own   were 

crouch'd 

In  misty  hell?     And  would  thy  kisses  make 
My  sorrow  for  their  desolation  less? 
Supreme  art  thou  and  very  beautiful; 
But  though  thy  lips  have  quiver'd  with  the  song 
That  thrills  the  holy  cedars,  in  thy  heart 
Abides  no  love,  nor  aught  of  tenderness 
If  thus  thou  judgest  women."     And  again 
[32] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


She  laugh'd  to  think  how  Idas  worship'd  her, 
And  how  she  loved  him.     But,  while  yet  she 

laugh'd, 

Apollo  seized  her.     "  Thou  art  mine,"  he  cried, 
And  press'd  his  burning  lips  upon  her  own. 
"  Thy  constancy  shall  vanish  as  the  dew 
Forsakes  its  love,  the  pallid  asphodel, 
When  sunbeams  woo  it.     When  I  sing  to  thee 
Thy  pulse  shall  quicken;  when  my  heart  shall 

beat 

Above  thine  own,  thine  eyes  shall  read  in  mine 
Such  dreams  as  force  forgetfulness  of  all 
Thy  former  dreamings.     Thou  shalt  love  me 

yet. 

Thy  hand  shall  yet  caress  me,  and  thy  lips 
Shall  cling  to  mine  until  all  space  shall  seem 
Too  tiny  for  our  swooning."     And  while  yet 
The  forest  echo'd  with  her  bitter  cry, 
And  all  grew  dark  around  her,  in  his  arms 
Apollo  bore  his  burden  from  the  glade. 


|  IS  listless  dogs  behind  him,  through  the 

woods 

Strode  Idas,  singing.    In  a  gloomy  spot, 
Where  never  satyr  sprawPd  beneath  the  trees 
Or  teasing  fauns  dismay'd  the  restive  deer, 
[33] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


The  lip-raised  bear  had  met  him.     Silently 
They  faced  each  other,  and  the  waiting  dogs 
Whined  to  attack  their  ancient  enemy. 
Then  from  his  bow  the  hunter  shot  a  shaft 
That  whizz'd  its  song  of  death,  and  in  the  throat 
Of  it,  the  hunted,  pitilessly  lodged. 
And  while  the  brown  brute  lunged  to  challenge 

them, 
The  dogs  sprang  forward;  but  the  bear  was 

quick, 

And  smote  with  thick  and  danger-dealing  paws 
Its  rash  tormentors.     One  as  suddenly 
Yelp'd  and  was  dead;  and  then  a  second  shaft, 
By  Idas  sped  from  his  complaining  bow, 
Smote  the  huge  fury  in  its  shaggy  breast. 
And  now  it  gave  no  heed  to  snapping  jaws, 
But,  dripping  blood  from  not  ignoble  wounds, 
O'erlook'd  the  baser  things  and  sought  the  man, 
Its  equal  in  the  forest.     With  a  roar 
That  cow'd  the  dogs,  the  bear,  uprear'd  and 

straight, 

Confronted  Idas.     But  the  spear  was  poised, 
The  spear  long  envied  of  the  Argonauts, 
And,  loosed,  it  travell'd  like  a  thunderbolt 
And  smote  the  bear  and  drove  him  back  again. 
Then  through  the  vast  and  bloody  cavity 
Pale   Death  rush'd   in   and   chilPd   its   mighty 

heart, 

[34] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  closed  its  angry  eyes  against  the  woods. 
And  ere  the  hearten'd  dogs  could  worry  it 
The  noble  beast  crash'd  down,  and  was  as  still 
As  is  the  fell'd  tree,  slaughtered  in  its  prime. 

But  when  he  reach'd  his  palace,  and  had  cast 
His  shoulder's  burden  on  the  gleaming  stairs, 
Marpessa  did  not  greet  him.    Through  the  halls 
He  strode  and  call'd  her,  but  his  children's  cries 
Apprised  him  she  was  absent.     Then  of  them 
That  eyed  him  mutely,  faithful  servitors 
Still  proud  to  serve,  he  ask'd  in  curtest  speech 
If  one  had  seen  her.    But  they  still  were  dumb 
And   shook  their  heads  while  looking  on  the 

ground. 
And  though  they  search'd  the  palace,  cried  her 

name 

And  sought  the  gardens  over,  not  a  sign 
Of  lost  Marpessa  brought  the  seekers  joy. 
But  when,  at  fault,  they  turn'd  to  pray  the 

gods 

Reveal  their  secret ;  and  with  troubled  eyes 
Their  master  follow'd  them,  a  blind  old  hound 
Much  favor'd  of  Marpessa  bay'd  the  woods; 
And  ever  sniffing  as  she  cross'd  the  grass 
Went  slowly  forward,  baying  as  she  went. 
Then  Idas  knew;  and  shouting  to  the  slaves 
To  guard  his  children  as  they  would  their  lives, 
[35]  ' 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


He  grasp'd  his  spear  and  follow'd.     Yard  by 

yard 

The  hound  went  on,  while  Idas  spoke  to  her, 
Impatient,  yet  all-grateful  for  her  aid. 
And  on  and  on,  beneath  the  self-same  pines 
That  saw  on  other  days  such  happenings 
As  he  might  find  delight  in ;  through  such  glades 
Where  Dian  heard  her  moon-enamor'd  maids 
Relate  the  day's  adventures;  how  the  deer 
Escaped  their  arrows,  or  a  drowsy  herd 
Gazed  at  their  limbs  with  unbelieving  eyes 
And  fell  asleep  again.     But  Idas'  thoughts 
Were  fix'd  on  his  Marpessa,  and  his  gaze 
Was  strain'd  upon  the  distance.     Bush  and  tree 
Seem'd  fraught  with  menace  to  the  one  he  loved, 
And  therefore  hateful;  so  he  hurried  on 
Behind  the   hound,   and   cheer'd  her  with  his 

voice. 
And  once  she  whined,  and  turn'd,  then  turn'd 

again 

And  bay'd  the  louder;  for  her  scent  was  keen 
Although  her  eyes  were  useless.     Overhead 
The  sun  had  cross'd  the  midline  of  the  sky, 
And  slanting  beams  now  fill'd  the  drowsy  woods 
With  afternoon's  still  glory ;  bush  and  tree 
Alike  seem'd  golden,  and  a  golden  sheen 
Fell  on  the  upturn'd  faces  of  the  flowers. 
But  little  now  reck'd  Idas  of  the  hour, 
[36] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  little  of  its  beauty.     Ah!  what  sight 
Might   blind   his   eyes   when   once   the   baying 

ceased 
That  now  seem'd  Hope's  own  music?     Had  the 

pool 

Forever  closed  above  her?     Or  would  she, 
With  lilies  far  less  white  and  delicate, 
Stare  from  its  edge  with  fix'd,  unseeing  eyes 
Upon  the  blue  above  them?     Then  he  thought 
Of  how  the  bear  had  almost  conquer'd  him, 
And  saw  her  bruised  and  mangled  in  the  fern. 
But  on  and  on  the  blind  hound,  baying,  went 
With  Idas  close  behind  her.     Nearing  now 
The  shadow'd  pool,  his  heart  grew  heavier; 
But  while  he  steel'd  himself  to  learn  the  fate 
Of  all  he  loved  and  cherish'd,  once  again 
The  hound  stood  still  and  sniff'd  uneasily 
The  air  about  her.     Then  she  whined  and  slunk 
To  where  her  master  waited,  glooming  now, 
His  eyes  so  useless.     Then  again  she  snifTd 
The  air  itself,  unmindful  of  the  grass, 
And  seem'd  at  fault ;  but  ever  from  the  pool 
Would  turn  her  head.     And  Idas  petted  her ; 
But  though  she  knew  his  meaning,  on  the  grass 
She  lay  and  whined  with  fine,  uplifted  head, 
And  would  not  move.     Then  Idas  left  her  there 
To  seek  behind  the  bushes,  finding  naught, 
[37] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  so  came  back,  and  watch'd  her.     Now  he 

knew 

That  she  was  borne  from  that  well-trodden  path 
That  cleft  the  forest  to  the  shelter'd  pool 
By  some  grim  enemy,  or  beast  or  man; 
And  while  his  hands  were  eager  to  bequeath 
Red  death  on  aught  that  held  her,  in  his  heart 
Her  face  alone  was  imaged,  only  hers. 
But  while  he  wonder'd  at  the  hound's  distress, 
And  bade  her  seek  and  find  again  the  scent, 
There  came  a  first,  faint  puff  of  perfumed  wind 
From  off  the  mountains,  and  the  hound  leap'd 

up 

Alert  and  silent;  then  she  snifTd  again 
And  ever  grew  more  eager.     And  at  last, 
When  sure  she  seem'd  of  something,  something 

hid 

From  Idas'  understanding,  through  the  woods 
Her    full-mouth'd    baying    boom'd.     Then    on 

again, 

With  head  erect  as  if  her  eyes  could  see, 
The  faithful  brute  proceeded;  ever  on 
Now  whining  and  now  baying.     And  behind 
Strode  eager  Idas,  firm-lipp'd,  resolute, 
And  hard  his  hand  embraced  his  trusted  spear. 

The  sun  was  setting  ere  he  came  on  them. 
While  yet  afar  Marpessa  heard  the  hound, 
[38] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


And  cried  to  Idas,  knowing  he  was  near. 
And  he  had  leap'd  to  clasp  her,  calling  her 
In  tones  that  voiced  his  anguish,  asking  not 
Why  thus  he  found  her  with  the  god  of  song ; 
But  scorning  him  and  hating.     But  the  god 
Still  kept  them  parted,  and  had  taunted  him 
With  mocking  words,  the  while  confronting  him. 
"  Fly  hence  while  yet  thou  may'st,"  he  cried  to 

him.  « 

"  Thy  wife  is  mine.     Death  holds  his  shroud 

o'er  thee; 

But  she  has  turn'd  her  glances  to  the  heights 
Where  I  abide  in  splendor.     Mine  she  is; 
And  me  she  loves  for  my  immortal  song 
And  all  that  makes  me  god-like."     Hearing  him 
It  seem'd  to  Idas  that  the  gods  had  rock'd 
The  petty  world,  and  that  along  with  it 
He  totter'd  to  destruction.     In  his  ears, 
As  booming  seas  may  thunder  in  a  cave, 
A  roaring  menace  sounded,  and  he  clutch'd 
The  air  about  him  wildly,  giddily, 
And  could  not  speak ;  could  only  clutch  the  air, 
And  stare  at  her  whose  name  he  could  not  say 
Despite  his  heart's  deep  longing.     But  the  voice 
Of  pale  Marpessa  cried  across  the  dusk: 
"  I  love  thee,  Idas !     In  its  constancy 
My  heart  so  steep'd  is  that  it  laughs  at  death. 
The  wolf  will  better  rear  our  little  ones 

[39] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Than  this  bright  Splendor  who  has  threaten'd 

us; 

And,  rather  than  be  his,  and  dwell  in  light, 
I'd  feel  once  more  thy  lips  upon  mine  eyes, 
Hear  once  thy  voice  assure  me  of  thy  love, 
And,  with  thine  arm  about  me,  seek  the  mists." 
And  though  he  could  not  answer  her  as  yet, 
He  look'd  his  yearning,  stunn'd  and  impotent 
To  cry  his  grief,  but  longing  to  unite 
His  iron  hands  around  the  marble  throat 
Of  him  who  ever  eyed  him  with  disdain. 
And  still  Apollo  mock'd  him :  "  She  shall  sit 
With  me  in  glory,  and  shall  lean  to  me 
When  thou  art  long  forgotten.     At  her  feet 
I  heap  my  gifts  of  immortality 
And  love  eternal.     Go,  while  I  am  kind; 
Thy  wife  my  love  is.     If  I  stare  at  thee 
Thy  days  are  ended."     And  again  she  cried, 
As  one  who  sees  her  loved  one  perishing: 
"  I  love  thee,  Idas,  who  art  all  to  me ; " 
And  fain  had  touch'd  him  with  her  trembling 

hand, 
But  could  not.     And  while  yet  she  gazed  at 

him 

With  love  and  anguish  in  the  eyes  so  dear, 
He  found  his  speech  and  thunder'd :  "  God  thou 

art, 

But  foul  seducer  also.     In  the  woods 
[40] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Are  they  that  hate  thee — Isse,  Chione, 
And  Zephyrus,  whom  Hyacinthus  scorn'd. 
Despite  thy  splendor,  and  thy  gift  of  song, 
Loathsome  thou  art  to  things  of  purity, 
Defiler  and  vain  boaster.     In  the  skies 
Thy  station  is,  to  serve  the  Thunderer, 
Lest,    anger'd,    he    chastise    thee.     Sweet    thy 

hymns 

In  ears  that  still  are  strangers  to  the  songs 
Of  earth's  dear  birds.    The  while  thou  gleamest 

there 

Thou  art  a  menace,  and  the  foe  of  all 
That  makes  our  short-year'd  life  seem  bearable. 
I  hate  thee,  and  would  rid  the  woods  of  thee. 
Now  aid  thou  me,  great  Zeus,  a  simple  man, 
Yet  righteous  in  my  anger  and  my  love. 
Guide  thou  my  spear,  and  tip  its  point  with 

death 

That  I  may  slay  this  robber,  win  mine  own, 
And  bless  thee  for  thy  succour."     Swiftly  then 
He  hurl'd  the  dart,  but  slipp'd  and  saw  it  pierce 
An  oak  behind  Apollo.     And  the  god, 
Now  bright  with  anger,  tore  the  quiv'ring  shaft 
From  out  the  tree  and  posed  to  hurtle  it 
Against  defenceless  Idas.     Even  now 
The  mists  were  heavy  in  Marpessa's  eyes, 
And  she  was  praying  for  the  man  she  loved, 
[41] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


When  lo!  the  shades  were  scattered.     In  their 

midst 

Stood  one  of  grave,  majestic  countenance, 
As  golden  as  Apollo,  but  serene 
And  conscious  of  his  power.     Then  to  the  earth 
The  spear  was  lower'd,  and  Marpessa's  hand 
Was  raised  in  supplication.     But  the  eyes 
Of  him  that  stood  there  were  the  eyes  of  one 
Who  awed  all  men  to  silence,  and  her  words 
Remain'd  unutter'd  in  her  anguish'd  breast. 
Then,  turning  first  to  where  Apollo  gleam'd, 
He  eyed  him  gravely.     "  Is  dissension  sweet," 
He  ask'd,  and  pointed  to  the  lower'd  spear, 
"  That  thus  ye  fight  when  from  the  western  skies 
My  glory  is  departing?     From  the  soil 
Sweet  incense  rises,  and  the  trees  are  still'd 
In  solemn  adoration.     Even  now 
The  stars  prepare  to  smile  upon  the  world, 
And  all  is  hush'd.     The  spear  is  in  thy  hand ; 
Thy  brow  is  angered.     I  await  thy  words." 
And  then  Apollo  storm'd.     "  The  maid  is  mine, 
I  love  her.     She  would  share "     But  Idas 

now 
Strode   hotly    forward.      "O   great  Zeus,"   he 

cried, 

"  The  bright  god  lies !     This  woman  is  my  wife, 
My  loved  Marpessa.     We  are  wed,  are  one. 
Thy  praise  we  sing  together,  and  our  babes 
[42] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Await  her  in  their  cradle.     She  is  mine." 
And  then  the  wroth  Apollo  f rown'd  at  him : 
"  If  I  but  speak  thou  fallest  at  my  feet, 
And  hell  shall  open  to  receive  thy  ghost. 
Who,  then,  art  thou  to  look  me  in  the  eyes 
And  say:  'Thou  liest'?     I  can  harass  thee 
And  make  thy  days   a  torment.     Thou  shalt 

learn 

My  awful  vengeance;  thou  shalt  cry  to  me 
As  Jason  cried  when  hurried  to  his  death." 
But  Idas  answered :  "  Nay,  I  fear  thee  not. 
A  man  I  am  and  I  can  die  but  once. 
Death  has  for  me  no  terrors.     Could  I  hold 
Thy  gleaming  hair,  I'd  stand  erect  in  hell 
And  deem  my  life  well  ended  but  to  shout: 
*  Behold  Apollo,  who  would  harm  my  wife ! '  " 
And  then  again  Apollo  raised  his  spear, 
But  Zeus  commanded  and  again  it  dropp'd. 
And  then  he  turn'd  to  where  Marpessa  stood, 
All  pale  and  trembling.     "  It  shall  rest  with 

thee 

To  choose  thy  lover,"  said  the  grave-eyed  god. 
"  But  ponder  well  before  thou  utterest 
Thy  heart's  desire.     Beneath  these  gentle  trees 
A  hero  claims  thee,  and  a  gleaming  god. 
To  each  thou  art  a  treasure,  but  to  one 
Thyself  thou  givest.     It  shall  rest  with  thee 
To  choose  thy  destiny — to  dwell  on  high 
[43] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Or  on  the  earth  that  is  a  part  of  thee. 
Who  loves  Apollo  must  be  sometimes  sad. 
The  song  that  trembles  on  his  crimson  lips 
Is  heard  by  many  and  of  many  loved. 
The  woods  are  his,  the  mountains.     Where  he 

goes 

All  hearts  adore  him,  but  he  passes  on 
To  other  conquests  and  to  other  loves. 
Apollo  says  he  loves  thee.     If  with  him 
Thou  goest  hence,  thou  shalt  immortal  be; 
Shalt  watch  the  birth  of  worlds,  the  vanishing 
Of  all  that  now  is  bright  and  wonderful. 
Beside  me  thou  shalt  sit  when  life  is  done. 
The  stars  shall  be  thy  children,  and  the  winds 
Shall  sing  thy  praises  ere  the  dusk  descends. 
And  if  thy  choice  be  Idas,  thou  shalt  know 
The  even  bliss  of  mortals  and  their  griefs. 
The  dawn  shall  wake  thee,  and  the  night  shall 

bring 

Thy  head  unto  its  pillow  where  lies  his 
Who  shares  with  thee  thy  sorrow  and  thy  joy. 
Thy  babes  will  love  thee,  but  shall  some  day  go 
Beyond  the  silent  longing  of  thine  eyes, 
Beyond  thy  hand's  caresses.     Even  he, 
Whose  hair  turns  whiter  while  thou  kissest  it, 
Must  go  at  last;  and  thou  must  follow  him, 
And  bid  farewell  to  light  and  all  that  made 
Thy  little  day  seem  perfect.     Being  gone 
[44] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Thou  soon  shalt  be  forgotten.     Few  are  they 
Whose  names  are  numbered  with  the  names  of 

stars ; 

Thy  little  pleasure  must  be  had  to-day. 
For  man  is  dust.     His  dreams  are  of  the  sky; 
But  all  the  toys  that  bring  him  happiness 
Lie  strewn  between  his  cradle  and  his  grave." 
And  while  he  spoke,  Marpessa  forward  lean'd 
As  if  to  choose ;  but  with  commanding  eyes 
The  grave  god  held  her  while  he  spoke  again. 
"  Apollo's  hand  would  raise  thee  to  the  heights ; 
But  Sorrow's  face  in  airy  solitudes 
Is  not  unknown,  for  she  is  everywhere 
Where  hearts  may  beat.     She,  too,  will  follow 

thee 

If  thou  with  Idas  goest.     At  her  knees 
Ye  both  must  kneel  when  that  dark  hour  comes 
That  comes  alike  to  those  whom  Love  makes  one 
And  those  whom  Love  ne'er  blesses.     Choose 

thou  now." 

And  while  Apollo  eyed  her  haughtily, 
Too  sure  of  conquest,  Idas  lean'd  to  her 
With  outstretch'd  arms,  still  hungry  for  her 

love 

And  fearful  she  might  leave  him.    But  his  doubt 
Was  vain  and  idle,  as  a  man's  doubt  is — 
Who  learns  what  love  is  only  when  't  is  lost; 
For,  laughing  now,  Marpessa  ran  to  him, 
[45] 


IDAS  AND  MARPESSA 


Heedless  of  bright  Apollo  or  of  Zeus, 
And  with  her  arms  close-twined  about  his  neck 
Cried :  "  Idas !    O  my  Idas !  "     Thus  they  gazed 
In  eyes  where  tears   were  welling;  thus  they 

stood 

To  all  oblivious  save  their  happy  selves, 
And  said  no  word,  but  gazed,  and  gazed  again. 
And  when  at  last  they  turn'd,  it  was  to  find 
The  gods  had  vanish'd  and  themselves  alone. 
Alone  they  stood  amid  the  leafy  peace, 
Beneath  the  skies  where  now  gleam'd  wondrously 
The  blessed  star  of  even ;  in  their  hearts 
The  love  that  cares  not  what  the  future  holds, 
Nor  ever  dreams  of  death ;  and  at  their  feet 
The  blind  old  hound,  awaiting  their  caress. 


[46] 


YB  1179; 


336043 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


